


why fall in love just to prove I still can

by Mattition



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Academia, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, IDK Fjord is in love, M/M, Schmoop, Trans Fjord (Critical Role), is this schmoop?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:20:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25817197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mattition/pseuds/Mattition
Summary: just a Soft morning in the life of married Fjord and Caleb.
Relationships: Fjord/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 4
Kudos: 72





	why fall in love just to prove I still can

**Author's Note:**

> Am I living out a fantasy of being in Love and living in a House with a Partner and a Cat? Maybe. But at least when I project onto Fjord like this it doesn't hurt him uwu. 
> 
> Fjord is trans, it isn't explicitly mentioned here, but he is in this universe so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Anyway this is fully unedited and feels like part of something bigger?  
> I just miss academia and I can't go on campus rn because Virus so I guess this is my outlet.
> 
> Title is from Comfort by Rusty Clanton, which is a very widowfjord song! Highly recommend!

He wakes slowly up to the golden morning light shining through the slit in their curtains. Fjord is not unused to waking with the sun, and he usually spends the half-hour before his alarm goes off admiring his husband. Today is no different. Caleb, when he finally drops into bed, sleeps hard. He and Beau both insist they don’t snore, but Caleb can give Fjord or Frumpkin a run for their money any day when it comes to imitating a motorboat. He sleeps with his mouth open and drools and flops around the bed in his sleep and ends up with his long red hair in a tangled mess by the time he wakes, and Fjord loves him so much. The interim before his alarm goes off is his favorite part of the day; he gets to stare at the love of his life and bask in the muted calmness of their home. He and Frumpkin have a sort of truce in the mornings, meaning mostly, that the cat will deign to be petted for 30 minutes before the alarm goes off and he demands food. 

Caleb has a large smear of blue ink across his cheek. Fjord whispers to the cat, “I told him to stop using those dip pens, didn’t I, Frumpy?” Frumpkin mrrrs in idle agreement and digs his claws into Fjord’s stomach lazily. Fjord sends a thankful thought to Caliana, who mixed him up an allergy cure as a strange apology for Bowlgate ™, even though she was in the right. He had never considered pet ownership in his youth, the closest he ever got were stray dogs who he tossed his bread crusts to when he ate his lunches behind the dumpsters in middle school and mangy ship cats who would sooner take a bite out of you than a rat. Frumpkin, a regal and truly contemptuous Bengal, is the light of Caleb’s life, and Fjord will swear ‘til the day he dies that he barely tolerates the cat, but, well. Their bonding sessions are between them and the morning sun, and he doesn’t think the Wildmother will tattle on him. 

All too soon, the speaker on their dresser softly announces the time and begins to play ocean waves. Caleb snuffles and presses his face into the pillow. Fjord chuffs a laugh and kisses his head before dragging himself out of bed. Caleb burrows further under the covers, and Frumpkin meows impatiently. Fjord opens the curtains and dresses for a run before heading out to the kitchen to feed his cat, who is obviously wasting away. Frumpkin is munching happily at his bowl when Fjord drags his running shoes on and leaves to meet Beau at the park. 

Caleb has finally gotten up by the time he drags his ass back into the house, but is only on his first cup of coffee, so offers no greeting. Fjord plants a smooch on the side of his head and forces down a protein shake before getting in the shower. He’s fully dressed and is combing his hair back into a ponytail at the crown of his head by the time Caleb has mainlined enough caffeine to make his way back to the bedroom to prepare for work. He shuffles towards the vanity and dresser and detours briefly to cuddle into Fjord’s chest.

“First day of school,” Fjord says into his neck, scenting him thoroughly. Caleb hums consideringly into his mug before setting it down on the dresser. 

“Ja, it is very exciting,” He drawls, flicking idly through the sock drawer. He considers an atrocious pair of neon blue socks with a donut pattern that Fjord is pretty sure he stole from Jester. “My free hour is 2 pm if you can pull yourself away from the fishies.” He eventually decides on a pink pair with a motif of little pandas eating bamboo. He nudges Fjord slightly as he turns to the next drawer down.

“Dragon Turtle’s been harassing the stingrays again,” says Fjord, “I’ll text you, maybe I’ll have time to bring you lunch if we can get him sorted out.”

“It’s your fault for calling him that,” posits Caleb, finally disentangling himself from his husband and heading towards the closet. “He wouldn’t be such a menace if he had a nerdier name.”

“What’s your excuse then?”

“Very funny,” comes Caleb’s voice, muffled from where he is undoubtedly buried in cardigans. Fjord smiles to himself and sneaks a glug out of Caleb’s mug. He grimaces; Caleb takes his coffee black and sweet as fuck. “Stop drinking my coffee!”

“I’m not!” Fjord objects, “You have shitty taste!”

“Well, I married you,” says his husband, emerging from the closet fully dressed in all his professor-chic glory. Fjord is wearing chinos and a polo that is just this side of too small for him. He smirks.

“Dark academia lookin’ ass,” 

“At least I’m not a jock,” Caleb says haughtily, turning to the full-length mirror next to the Clothes Chair. He begins to separate his hair to braid it away from his face. 

“Take it back,” Fjord says belatedly, distracted by the way the sun turns Caleb’s hair into spun gold. Caleb gives him a sly look.

“You dress like the president of the Association of Athletes for Pelor,” Caleb accuses. Fjord laughs.

“I’m telling Darrow that you didn’t respect his work with the AAP when we were in school.”

“He knows,” Caleb says dryly, gesturing for a rubber band. Fjord hands him a couple pink ones, to match his socks. Hair done, Caleb turns to face his husband. Fjord pulls him in for a kiss. Against his lips, Caleb murmurs, “I have a class at 9,”

“You should probably go to campus, then,” replies Fjord, squeezing him tighter. Caleb makes a considering sound.

“I guess.” They kiss for a few more moments before Caleb pats Fjord’s chest and pulls away. He downs his rapidly cooling coffee and collects his messenger bag. “bring me a tin of Cad’s chamomile blend when you join me at lunch, will you?”

“Of course.” Fjord says as they migrate towards the front door.

“Thank you, liebling,” Caleb gives him one final peck before he leaves. “Love you, see you later,”

“Bye, darling, I love you,” Fjord waves him away before heading to the home office. Caleb is the organized one, and always packs his bag before going to bed, but Fjord leaves all his papers scattered all over the office until morning. He grins besottedly at their wedding photo on the mantle and sets about gathering his papers, notes and laptop into his backpack.


End file.
